


black coffee without sugar

by RileyGabriel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Dean Winchester, Bisexual Dean Winchester, M/M, Misunderstandings, Writer Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21808855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyGabriel/pseuds/RileyGabriel
Summary: After six months of pining, Dean Winchester is finally ready to ask out Castiel Novak, best-selling fantasy writer and regular customer of the café Dean works at. Too bad this is also the time Cas decides to bring along someone who acts suspiciously like his boyfriend.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 180





	black coffee without sugar

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language, please excuse any mistakes.  
> Also, this is my very first fanfiction, I have no idea what I'm doing, but I hope you'll enjoy it.

“Excuse me, could I have some whipped cream on my latte?”

The harsh voice broke Dean out of his musing and pulled him back into the cold reality. The short, plump woman on the other side of the counter pointed impatiently at the paper cup in front of her. Dean quickly composed himself, grabbed the whipped cream spray from beside the coffee machine and pressed a generous amount on the beverage. He forced a friendly smile on his face and handed the drink to the woman. 

“Could I have a bit more?”

The cream already resembled a smaller mountain, and Dean wasn’t sure how he could put any more onto it without making it drip down the side of the cup. He carefully pressed some more cream onto the top of the unstable pile and quickly gave it back to the customer before the mountain of cream could collapse.

The woman still looked dissatisfied, but glanced at her watch, sighed loudly and took the drink without another word. 

“You’re welcome” murmured Dean as she pushed the door open and left hurriedly.

Dean Winchester generally enjoyed working at the café, but customers like this woman always made him question whether he should look for another part-time job. He had been working at The Roadhouse for nearly ten years. At the ripe age of seventeen he decided that he’d had enough of taking the crowded, smelly bus to school every day and would rather invest in a car; however, his parents flat out refused to get him one. It wasn’t that the Winchesters couldn’t afford it, but John was on the mentality that his sons needed to learn the value of money and that they would appreciate whatever thing they decided to buy much more if they were the ones who had to pay for it. 

So on the last day of school, after his classes were over, Dean stopped by the small café run by their long-time family friends, Ellen and Will, to ask if they needed a barista. That’s how he ended up spending the first day of the summer holiday standing behind the counter, trying to figure out what the hell the difference was between a latte and a café au lait. 

His best friend, Jo, who had naturally spent most of her life hanging out at her parents’ coffee shop had laughed herself silly. 

Truth to be told, no one who knew anything about Dean expected him to stay for more than a week. Being nice to rude and ungrateful customers, making fancy coffees, and cleaning up other people’s mess were not activities anyone would have associated with the older Winchester boy. But Dean endured everything without a complaint, and when the summer holiday ended he rolled in to the school’s parking lot in a 1967 Chevrolet Impala and an enormous smile on his face. 

Not only did he manage to buy his dream car, but, to everyone’s surprise, he got to enjoy working at the café. He liked coming up with new designs to draw from cream on top of the drinks, the smile on people’s faces when he handed them their favourite beverage made him smile too, and he loved fooling around with Jo when the place wasn’t too busy. So he stayed there, working part-time until he finished school, and even though now he had a full-time job at the local garage he helped out in the evenings or weekends when Jo or Ellen had somewhere else to be and needed someone to run the place for a few hours. 

Still, Dean would be lying if he said he only offered his help because he had a heart of gold. Six months ago he found the perfect reason to hang out in the café as much as he could.

It happened on a Friday evening, just before closing time. The café was empty, and, not expecting any more customers, Dean was in the process of putting the dirty mugs in the dishwasher. If he finished cleaning up early he could leave as soon as the shop closed and he could be back at his parents’ house just in time for the game he, Sam, and John had been planning to watch. Sam was finally back from college for the summer, even if just for three weeks before he headed back to Stanford for his internship, and Dean wanted to make the most of their time together. Also, now that he had his own apartment he didn’t spend nearly as much time with his parents as he used to, and he knew they would be happy to see him. 

He was just about to start putting the chairs onto the tables when the door slammed open. Dean turned around, the usual “sorry, we’re closing in a few minutes, please come back tomorrow” on the tip of his tongue, but then he saw the person standing in the doorframe and the sentence died in his throat. The man couldn’t have been much older than him, but right now he looked like he had been through some shit. His dark hair was a complete mess, the trenchcoat hanging from his broad shoulders was the most crumpled piece of clothes Dean had ever seen and judging from the bags under his eyes he hadn’t slept in days. 

Also, he was soaking wet.

Dean peaked outside above the man and realized with annoyance that it was indeed pouring down with rain. The sound must have been drowned out by the music he was playing from his phone. Dean cursed silently as he realised that he didn’t have an umbrella, and of course on that particular day the street was so busy that he had to park the Impala three blocks away. 

“Hey buddy, I’m sorry but we’re just about to…” he started sympathetically, feeling sorry that he had to send the poor guy back out in the rain, but was interrupted by the other.

“Listen, I know you probably won’t care but this is the worst day of my life, there has been a power cut in my flat and if I don’t send my latest chapter to my agent in five minutes he’s going to kill me, so I’d be forever grateful if I could use your Wi-fi.” 

The man was talking a mile a minute and Dean barely comprehended what he was saying, but the begging in his tone as well as his appearance left no doubt that he was indeed going through a hard time.

“Okay, but just for a few minutes. We’re closing soon.”

Dean was a nice guy after all, and the other man looked so desperate that he didn’t have the heart to send him away. 

Also, despite his dishevelled look, he was kind of hot.

The man gave him a warm smile then sat down to the nearest table and pulled out a laptop from his satchel. He looked up only to read the Wi-fi password written in Jo’s neat handwriting on a chalkboard above the counter, then glued his eyes to the screen.

Dean watched him for a few more seconds but as it was obvious that the man was busy with whatever he was doing he turned back to cleaning up. 

Exactly seven minutes later the stranger closed the laptop lid, buried his head in his hands and sighed loudly. 

“You okay there?” asked Dean as he put some unused mugs back in the cupboard. No matter how attractive the other man was, it was already past closing time and he was ready to go home and indulge in some of his mum’s tasty home-made burgers. Just the thought of them made his mouth water.

“Yes. Thank you for… everything.” The man looked up and smiled tiredly. 

This was the first time Dean noticed how blue his eyes were. His mind wondered on all the pleasurable ways the stranger could thank him for not kicking him out, but he immediately stopped himself. It’d been a while since he had broken up with his last girlfriend (if you can call someone you went on three dates with your girlfriend), but he wasn’t as desperate as to hook up with this random, tousled guy. 

“No problem. Mind if I ask what was so urgent?”

“I had a deadline today. Well, it was an extended deadline already. An overly extended one, actually. My head would be on a stick by tomorrow if I hadn’t sent it off this evening.”

“So you’re at college? Don’t you have holidays now?”

The man shook his head.

“No, I’m a writer.”

“Seriously?” Dean stopped organizing the mugs. “Are you, like, famous?”

The Roadhouse was a popular café, but it was definitely not the place celebrities went to. He imagined the amazing publicity this guy could create for them. _Best-selling author finishes latest book in small coffee shop in Lawrence, Kansas._ He would never have to worry about paying his rent on time again. 

The man looked away and started fiddling with his loosened tie looking somewhat uncomfortable.

“I don’t think I should be the one to judge that. But I’m Castiel Novak.” he answered finally.

Dean’s jaw dropped. Castiel Novak. A month ago this name would have meant nothing to him, but that was before the best-selling fantasy writer Emmanuel Allen came clean about using a pen name but finally revealing his true identity. 

Dean wasn’t exactly a bookworm. It wasn’t that he disliked reading, it just wasn’t his favourite free time activity. But after Sam spent the whole Christmas holiday obsessing over Emmanuel’s books he decided to give them a try and was taken aback when he found himself genuinely enjoying his novels. 

But while the stories were interesting, Dean never thought about who the man behind them might be. He vaguely remembered Sam telling him that Emmanuel must had been a very reserved guy as he rarely attended conventions, even though not only did all his books end up immediately on top of the best-seller list, but the first season of the TV show based on his novels had just finished airing and already had a huge fanbase. 

Dean himself had never been particularly interested in the life of celebrities, and if it wasn’t for Sam he probably wouldn’t have known that Castiel Novak was Emmanuel Allen’s real name. While the alias first name was uncommon enough by itself, Castiel was a name so strange that it was hard to forget. 

“Seriously? Man, your books are great!” Dean said enthusiastically, putting down the mug he was holding and leaning on the counter now fully concentrated on the other man.

“Thank you” Castiel smiled shyly and let go of his tie, as if he had just noticed that he had been playing with it the whole time.

“So do you live nearby?”

Castiel bit his lip and looked uncertain as what to say, and Dean realised that this wasn’t the smartest question. He might not have been a movie star or a famous singer, but Castiel was still relatively well-known and maybe he didn’t want to reveal his address. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. You don’t have to answer, I’m sure you don’t want some crazy fans lurking around your place. Not that I would tell anyone if you told me. Which you totally don’t have to.” Dean finally stopped talking and felt a sudden urge to punch himself in the face.

He had never had a problem with talking to someone (even if that someone was as hot as the guy in front of him), but right now he was just making an idiot out of himself. 

But then again he did like Castiel’s books and it wasn’t like he had met so many famous people before.

Castiel, however, didn’t seem to mind Dean’s ranting.

“No, it’s okay. I live a few street away, but this was the only place that was still open. Except for the bars, but I’m not particularly fond of those places.” Castiel grimaced. 

“Yeah, I get that” in fact, Dean didn’t really get it. He liked bars after all, but figured that it’d be easier to agree. “Too, hm, noisy for work, I guess. Are you working on the next book of Supernatural?”

Castiel nodded. 

“Yes, I’m just about to bring it to an end. But my agent’s going to make me re-write the whole manuscript anyway, so there’s still a long way before it will be published.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually here. My brother’s going to be so jealous when I tell him I met you. He’s your biggest fan, he has read all your books like a million times.”

A small smile appeared on Castiel’s face. He seemed to be starting to relax and he clearly enjoyed talking about his job. 

“It’s always nice to hear that people enjoy my work. Tell your brother I said hi.” Castiel turned in his seat and looked around the room. “I like this café. I don’t know why I haven’t been here before, I passed by it so many times. Have you been working here for long?”

“I don’t actually work here, it’s run by my friends and I help out sometimes. But yes, I’ve been doing it for some time now. I’m Dean, by the way.” he added when he realised he hadn’t introduced himself.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dean. Does your brother also work… help out here sometimes?”

“No, he’s at college most of the year. Stanford. He’s the smart one in the family.” Dean said mockingly but there was no real taunt in his words. He was extremely proud of Sammy after all. 

“Really? My brother goes there too.” said Castiel with interest, then sighed and continued. “Well, at least he’s _enrolled_ at Stanford. He spends most of the time smoking some probably illegal substances and playing pranks on everyone who’s around.”

“You have a brother? I didn’t know.”

“Yes, I like to keep my personal life personal, so the public doesn’t know much about my family. But I have a sister and three brothers. All older than me, I’m the baby in the family, as they always like to remind me.”

“Wow, big family. Do you get on well?”

Castiel tilted his head and thought about it for a second.

“With Anna, yes. Michael and Gabriel are hard cases, but we can have a decent conversation. But I haven’t spoken to Luke in a long time, he had an enormous fight with our father a few years ago and he didn’t take it well that all of us took dad’s side.” Castiel said with a sour expression. “But I wouldn’t say I’m particularly close to any of my siblings.”

“I’m sorry, man.” was all Dean could say. He was angry at himself for bringing up the topic; Castiel finally seemed to relax now that his work was done, and he managed to ruin his mood.

But the dark-haired man just shrugged.

“It’s okay, I’m used to it by now. And they live all over the country, it’s not like I saw them often anyway. How about you, are you close to your brother?”

“Yeah, Sammy’s great. He’s a big sap sometimes, and always leaves his books around when he’s at home, and eats weird rabbit food all the time, but he’s actually awesome. Just don’t tell him I said this.”

“I don’t think you’d have to worry about this, I don’t know your brother.”

Dean stared at him for a second, then just chuckled, shook his head and when he looked back up he locked gazes with Castiel. He tentatively smiled at him, which the other returned and Dean felt something warm in his stomach. 

In this moment a loud Deep Purple song filled the room. Dean quickly fished out his phone from his pocket and picked it up.

“Hey, Sammy, what’s up?” he asked, then silently mouthed “speaking of the devil” to Castiel, who laughed quietly. 

“Where are you? The game is just about to start and if you don’t get here soon I can’t guarantee that there’ll be any more burgers left.”

Dean looked at the clock on the wall opposite of him and was surprised to see that it was more than half an hour after their closing time. 

“Sure, sorry, I just… things got a bit busy here. I’ll be home soon.” Dean sent an apologetical look to Castiel, who just nodded and started putting away his laptop.

Dean said bye to Sam and hung up. 

“I’m really sorry for holding you up, I’m sure have better things to do. I didn’t notice how much time has passed.” Castiel apologised and stood up, throwing the satchel over his shoulder. “And I didn’t even order anything, I’m the worst customer. But thank you for… well, everything, let’s say you saved my life.”

“Come on, your agent can’t be that bad!”

“Believe me, he is” Castiel rolled his eyes. “He has a horrible temper and can be quite merciless. Sometimes I truly think he’s a sadist.”

“Sounds like a charming guy. But no problem, really, it’s not like best-selling authors came here every day.” Dean joked and couldn’t help but find adorable how Castiel looked away and smiled shyly. “Maybe you could drop by some other time too? You know, just so Ellen can’t rip my head off for offering shelter to non-consuming customers.” 

For a second Castiel looked confused and Dean panicked that maybe he didn’t get the sarcasm in his words and thought that he was serious, but then the meaning of his words seemed to have settled in with the dark-haired man.

“I would most certainly not want that. I could come back tomorrow, are you working then?”

Ellen didn’t say they needed any help over the weekend, and Dean was planning on fixing some things on the Impala, but if it meant seeing Castiel again he would happily take over Jo’s shift. She would get suspicious of course but worrying about that could wait. 

“Yeah, probably.”

Castiel nodded and headed for the door, but before stepping outside he looked back one last time. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Dean.”

“You too, Cas. See you tomorrow.”

Castiel didn’t show up the next day. 

Jo was more than happy to give over her full-day shift to Dean, who ended up working from opening until closing time, as Castiel didn’t specify what time he’d be around, and Dean didn’t want to miss him. So instead of working on the Impala, spending time with Sam, or doing anything remotely relaxing he spent eight hours behind the counter, waiting for a guy who didn’t take the effort to drop by even just to say hello.

Dean could have kicked himself.

And even more annoying was that he didn’t know what he expected. Castiel was nice and, yes, hot as hell, but they had only talk for half an hour and it wasn’t like they had agreed to go on a date. 

Learning from his mistake Dean decided to take some time off, and by the time he returned to the café two weeks later he nearly forgot about his encounter with the writer. 

It was a Saturday morning and Dean was brewing three coffees at the same time for three impatient customers, so absorbed in his work that he was caught completely off guard when a deep voice greeted him.

“Hello, Dean.”

He handed one of the paper cups to a businessman-looking guy (who left without a word) but as he was too busy looking at the dark-haired man in front of him he nearly poured the drink all over his hand.

“Hi Cas. I’m glad to see that you’re still alive.” he said and turned back to serving the other two customers. 

Castiel tilted his head clearly not understanding the other’s passive-aggressive voice, but Dean ignored him. He put the lid on the take-away cups, handed them to the two young women and wished them a nice day. The fact that both of them checked him out lifted his mood a bit. 

“Of course I’m alive, why wouldn’t I be?” 

Much to Dean’s disappointment there were no more people waiting to be served. He picked up a rag and started wiping down the counter, still not looking at Castiel.

“Well, maybe because you never came back. It’s kind of rude to go and work in a café and not even buy a coffee, you know.” Dean suddenly realised that he was acting like a teenage girl who got stood up at a date. He definitely did not want to give such an impression, so he tossed the rag away and looked up at the other man.

“And what if I would like to have that coffee now?” Castiel still seemed to be trying to figure out what Dean’s problem was.

“Sure, what can I get you?”

“Just a black coffee, please. Without sugar.” 

“Have here or take away?”

“Depends. Do you have some time?”

In Dean’s experience a sentence like this could have easily been the beginning of a potentially very intense flirting session, but Castiel’s face was so serious that it made it very clear that he had no such intentions.

Dean looked around the café. There were a couple of people sitting at the tables but all of them were busy looking at the screen of their laptops. The morning rush hour was coming to an end, meaning that he would have plenty of free time.

“Have here, then.” he decided.

Castiel nodded and sat down on one of the high chairs in front of the counter.

Dean started brewing the beverage and tried to think of something to say. Continuing their conversation from where they had left off would have felt weird but having a small talk about the weather would have been equally awkward. 

Luckily, Castiel saved him there.

“And just so you know, I did come back. I couldn’t make it the next day because I spent the whole day revising the manuscript with my agent, but I have been around nearly every day in the last two weeks, and you were never here. I was just about to ask Jo whether you really worked here or if I just imagined that evening.”

“You’ve met Jo?” was all Dean could say. 

The rest of what Castiel said made him unexplainably happy. So he did come back. Dean Winchester, notorious (wo)manizer didn’t get stood up, after all. 

“Yes, she’s really amicable. I think she considers me a regular customer by now. She even gave me a discount yesterday. But I was surprised that I never saw you here, it is quite busy here in the mornings, I think Jo could use some help.”

“I took some time off. I, hm, had lots to do in the garage.” 

“Are you a mechanic as well?” Castiel looked impressed.

“Yeah, mechanic and part-time coffee shop worker.” Dean chuckled. 

“Do you find it hard to balance two jobs?”

“No, not really. Work at the garage is awesome, and I don’t really think of being here as a job. Jo or Ellen, her mom, are often here too, so it’s mostly fun. Have you always been a writer? Sorry, I haven’t read your autobiography.”

“I’m not aware of any autobiographies about me.” Castiel gave him a puzzled look. 

Dean thought that they guy really needed to work on his sarcasm skills. “It was a joke, Cas.”

“Oh, I see.” the author paused for a second. “No one has ever called me Cas though.”

“Do you have any other nicknames?”

Castiel seemed to be hesitating, then finally shook his head as if in the end he had decided not to share something. Dean guessed that it must have had something to do with a very embarrassing nickname that Castiel would rather keep to himself. 

“No, most people call me by my first name.”

“Alright then, Cas…tiel.”

“No, I actually quite like Cas. Castiel is too long and unusual anyway. And to answer your question, I worked at a bookshop while I was in college. But it was a very small and not at all popular place, so I mostly just did the stocking and helped with the accounting.”

“You went to college?” this piece of information surprised Dean. 

“Yes, I majored in creative writing in a state college in Illinois. I’m from Pontiac.”

Dean had no idea where Pontiac was but nodded anyway.

“And how did you end up in Lawrence?”

Castiel shrugged and took a sip from his coffee.

“I don’t have a good reason for that. When my brother, Michael, lived here for a few months he attempted to host a family Christmas party to bring us closer together, so I had to come. It was a complete disaster, as expected, our father never showed up and Michael and Luke nearly killed each other before we even started dinner. The only good thing that came out of that evening was that my siblings were so busy being at each other’ throat that no one noticed that I left halfway through the meal. I spent the night walking around the town, and I liked it so much that I bought a flat here when I decided to move away from Illinois after college.”

“You _bought_ a flat straight after college?” Dean tried not to think about how he was barely able to pay the rent for his old, one-bedroom flat.  
Castiel smiled timidly. 

“My first book was published in my junior year and everything happened rather fast after that.”

“Dude, that’s awesome! I had no idea you got famous so fast. Don’t get me wrong, your books are great but…” Dean didn’t know how to finish the sentence. Thousands of young people struggled to get themselves through college then suffered under the re-payment of their student debt, whereas this guy in front of him became a best-selling author at the ripe age of twenty-one. “But hey, why did you use an alias?”

“I wasn’t comfortable with publishing under my own name as I didn’t know whether my novel would be well-received or if it was just a waste of time and money. I thought at least it would be less of an embarrassment if no one knew that I was the one who wrote it.”

“And what made you change your mind after, like, eight years later?”

“I didn’t see any reason to hide it anymore. I have attended some conventions by now and the public already knows so much about me, I figured they might as well know my real name.”

“They know a lot about you, huh? Isn’t that annoying?”

“No, not annoying, but it is somewhat bizarre when I meet someone for the first time and they already know my whole life story, even though I try to avoid disclosing too much about my personal life.” Castiel smiled at Dean. “I have to admit, I enjoy that you’re not one of those people.”

Dean involuntarily smiled back. With every passing minute he found Castiel more and more interesting.

“I’m not into celebrity gossip. My brother on the other hand… But of course he’d never admit it.” Dean chuckled at the memory of finding a tabloid in one of Sam’s drawers and his brother swearing on his life that he had no idea how it had ended up there. “And I kind of prefer finding out about you from, you know, _you_.”

“Well, that was about everything interesting about me. Your turn now, I barely know anything about you.”

“There’s not much to know.” Dean shrugged. Compared to Castiel’s, his life suddenly seemed awfully normal and boring. “I’m 28, dropped out of college after a semester, I work at the garage, as you know, and on Fridays I go out with my friends, Charlie and Benny. That’s about everything worth knowing.”

“Why did you drop out of college?”

“I never really wanted to go, I only did because my dad insisted on it. But I realised pretty quickly that it wasn’t for me and I didn’t see any reason for being there for four years if I didn’t enjoy it at all. I’ve never been into studying that much anyway.” Dean realised that his last sentence probably made him look like a dumbass. “I mean it’s not that I hate studying. I don’t dislike it or anything. It’s just… you know. I still like to read and stuff.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself, Dean. To be honest, I didn’t enjoy college that much.”

“Really? You seem like someone who’d love college. Being nerdy at classes and all that stuff.”

“I did enjoy that one aspect, but sadly that was not everything to it. Most of my peers only cared about going out and ‘getting with girls’, as they put it, and I couldn’t understand how they found enjoyment in these activities. I’m not sure I would have finished college if it wasn’t for my good friend, Balthazar, and the fact that when I wasn’t studying I managed to distract myself by writing.”

“Well, that turned out pretty well, didn’t it?” Castiel’s expression darkened as he was talking about college and Dean tried to cheer him up instead of further ruining the mood. It was probably not the best time to admit that going out and picking up pretty chicks or handsome dudes were the only things he enjoyed about college. Also, that was around the time when he discovered that all the things he had previously only done with girls were just as enjoyable with guys too, which made college parties hell a lot more fun. “You wouldn’t be sitting here being everyone’s favourite best-selling author if you had spent all your time getting pissed at some lame party.”

Castiel’s face immediately lit up. 

“Thank you, it’s really nice of you to say that. Although I hope that you don’t think I’m some kind of an awfully boring and posh person who looks down on everyone who enjoys going out.”

“No, not at all. I can’t say I completely understand you, because going out was pretty much the only thing that nearly convinced me to stay at college. And the wrestling team, of course. But hey, everyone’s different, right? Imagine how boring the world would be if everyone liked the same things.”

“You did wrestling?”

“I was the star of the team. I started wrestling back in high school, mainly because it was a good excuse for why I wasn’t doing my homework in the afternoons, but I turned out to be pretty awesome at it. I won a smaller championship in my senior year.” the memory put a smile on Dean’s face. 

“Congratulations, that is an amazing result. Although I’ve never quite understood the appeal of combat sports, they seem a bit too violent to me.”

“No, no, wrestling is great! It can get violent sometimes I guess, but there’s so much more to it. It makes you stronger, both mentally and physically, and having your arm raised at the end of a match is pretty much the best feeling ever.” Although he’s been out of practice for several years and wasn’t quite as muscular as when he had won that championship Dean shifted slightly and subtly flexed his biceps. What was the point of going to the gym if he didn’t show off in front of hot guys?

But Cas was too engrossed in what he was saying, so Dean reluctantly relaxed his muscles. Most people he had met at bars would throw themselves at him after seeing even a hint of his well-toned body, but this trick didn’t seem to work with Cas. The surprising happiness Dean felt outweighed his faint annoyance.

“Did you keep on competing in college?”

“No, as it turned out the wrestling team at college was more about having a short practice then getting pissed at a bar than about actually wrestling. I sometimes wished we had focused more on the sport, but I’m not going to lie, I didn’t mind at all going out with the team every night.” 

Castiel studied Dean for a minute. He probably didn’t mean to embarrass Dean, but his gaze was so penetrating the barista had to look away. It was as if the other man could see right into his soul. 

“Yes, I can definitely see you as the centre of the party.” the author said finally. 

“But I don’t do that anymore.” Dean added quickly. For some reason he didn’t want Castiel to think that he was still in his fooling around-phase. “I had my fair share of parties and booze and…” he was going to say ‘one-night stands’ but admitting his tendency to sleep around to this smart, interesting, and handsome guy he was just getting to know didn’t seem like the best idea. “… all that stuff. A beer once a week with my buddies or with Sam is more than enough.”

“I agree with you on that one. I would very much prefer going out for a drink or coffee.” Dean didn’t know if he was imagining it, but it seemed like the other man was looking very pointedly at him. 

Was he implying that Dean should ask him out? 

Hell yeah he was going to do that. 

Dean opened his mouth to say that there was this really nice bar that not many people knew about and maybe they should go there sometime, how about Friday night, but in this moment the most basic ringtone ever created cut through the momentary silence.

Castiel sent an apologetical look toward Dean, fished out his phone from his pocket and picked it up. 

“Hello, Crowley. Yes… Yes, of course. No, I’m not busy. Yes, I understand. Okay. Goodbye.” Castiel took the phone away from his ear and sighed deeply. 

“I’m very sorry, but I need to go now.” he quickly finished his coffee and pulled out some cash from his purse. Even though he felt a bit hurt by Cas saying that he wasn’t busy at all, Dean couldn’t help but notice that he left a very generous tip. “I really enjoyed our conversation though, it was nice to see you again.”

“Yes, it was.” he would do it, Dean decided, just ask him out like it’s no big deal. “See you around, I guess?” 

Castiel’s smile looked a bit forced but he nodded.

“Yes. See you later, Dean.” he turned around and hurriedly left the café. 

Dean groaned and, earning a very concerned look from the woman sitting at a nearby table, slammed his forehead against the counter.

From then on it only got worse.

Dean got back to his earlier habit of working on the weekends and Thursday evenings, when Jo had her martial arts class. It didn’t take long for Cas to learn on which days the other would be in the café so that he could always drop by whenever Dean had a shift. During the busy weekends mornings he’d bring his laptop along and sit in one of the corners writing, but when the place got a bit quieter he’d go to the counter and chat with Dean. 

And quite frankly, these conversations were the highlights of Dean’s week.

Cas was smart and interesting, and they could talk for hours without ever running out of topics. The writer did have some difficulty understanding some of Dean’s jokes and sarcasm in general, but Dean found it somewhat cute. 

And it wasn’t that Dean didn’t want to ask Cas out, he just never got the chance. 

Dean has always been proud of his smooth talk when it came to having his way with others, regardless of their gender, but he had to realise that there was a big difference between picking up some random chick or dude at a bar and asking out someone he could actually imagine a relationship with. 

Dean took some pride in the fact that he was a ladies and gentlemen’s man; yet, he had to admit with a hint of embarrassment that managing relationships wasn’t his forte. The closest thing he had to a proper relationship was with Lisa Braeden just after he had dropped out of college, but that too only lasted for a few months before Lisa dumped him. 

What made matters worse was that Dean couldn’t even be sure if Cas was into men. They haven’t directly talked about it, but from what he gathered Dean could tell that Cas wasn’t an expert either when it came to relationships. The author once briefly mentioned that he had had a fling with a girl named Apple or April or whatever her name was when he was at college, but she only agreed to go out with him because she had lost a bet to a friend. 

Still, the way Cas behaved sometimes made Dean hopeful that maybe he would actually be interested in him. It was just small things; how whenever Cas took his mug from Dean their hands would touch. How, when Dean was telling him about the sudden death of his paternal grandfather last year, Cas put his hand on his and left it there for a solid three minutes. And of course the constipated look on the writer’s face whenever the barista mentioned one of his flings. 

But then again, Cas wasn’t the most skilled person when it came to social interaction. And as days went by the two of them slowly went from being acquaintances to friends to kind-of-best friends. It was a somewhat unconventional friendship as they had only ever met at the café, but after Dean had finally got Cas’s number they texted each other almost every day. 

If Cas wasn’t into men asking him out would have led to an extremely embarrassing situation and most likely the end of their friendship, and that was something Dean didn’t want to risk. 

So he kept telling himself that he’d ask Cas out the next day, or the day after that, or maybe next week, and before he knew six months passed. 

This realisation hit him on a rainy afternoon in December while Cas was ranting about one of the upcoming conventions he had been invited to. 

“So Crowley said that he’d fly here first to see why I like this town so much and refuse to move to New York to be closer to him, and then we’d drive to Topeka for the convention.” 

“He wants you to move to New York?” Dean asked absent-mindedly. He still couldn’t completely get over how much of a coward he was.

“Yes, he’s been trying to persuade me ever since we met each other. But I don’t want to move, I like it here.” he smiled at Dean. “If he wishes to spend more time with me he’ll have to move.”

“I bet cafés in New York are shit anyway.”

“And I’m sure the staff is not nearly as friendly as here.”

Dean didn’t know what to say to that, so he just started fiddling with some empty cups. 

Cas looked at his watch, finished his coffee and stood up.

“I need to go now, I’ve still got some work to do. Crowley’s coming next Thursday, would you mind if I brought him here sometime?”

“Sure. Can’t wait to meet that wonderful agent of yours who makes you work your ass off.” Dean said sarcastically and was pleased when he saw Cas chuckle. It took him six months, but the author was finally starting to understand the point of sarcasm. 

“Don’t be too hard on him, he’s not a bad guy. Anyway, tell Jo I said hi.” 

Cas, their most regular customer lately, had of course got to know Jo quite well.

And not only did they get on well, but there was a brief period when Dean had a suspicion that there was something going on between the two of them. Jo would often join Cas at his table in the mornings where they would sit close to each other and talk just quietly enough that he couldn’t hear them. On some rare occasions he caught them looking at him but turning away when they saw him looking back, and he couldn’t help feeling that they were talking about him. One day, after this happened yet again and then Jo hugged Cas as he was leaving, he nearly convinced himself that they were talking about how to tell him that they’d got together. 

But a few weeks later Jo announced that he was seeing someone and as Castiel’s smile was clearly sincere when he congratulated her Dean admitted that he might have been wrong. He felt such a relief that he didn’t charge Cas for his coffee, claiming that it was time for him to treat him to something. He dreamt of Cas’s wide smile for a week after that. 

Dean watched Cas leave the café and waving back at him through the window as he walked away, and swore to himself that no matter what, the next time he saw the other he’d ask him out.

Except, Dean didn’t see Cas for an entire week and the next time he did show up he looked even worse then on the night of their first meeting. The author was pale, his eyes bloodshot, and the bags under them indicated that he hadn’t had any sleep the previous night. 

“You okay?” asked Dean as he started preparing Cas’s usual black coffee. “I don’t mean to be a jerk, but you look like crap.”

“I’m fine, but Crowley had me working the whole night. He’s not exactly content with my latest chapters. He arrived yesterday afternoon and he haven’t stopped criticising my work since then.” Cas shook his head as Dean reached for one of the mugs. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay. Crowley is waiting for me, I need to go back.”

But Dean didn’t hear the second half of what Cas had said. The way the author raised his arm to point at the pile of paper cups implying that he’d take his drink away his white shirt slid up his arm a bit, revealing a bruise the size of a palm. 

Dean stopped short, unable to take his eyes of the other’s arm. 

Cas followed his eyes, and as he realised what Dean was staring at he quickly tugged his sleeve back down. 

“I was being immensely clumsy yesterday, I ran into a doorframe.” he explained hurriedly. “It’s fine, it looks much worse than it actually is.”

“Let me see, I got some ugly bruises when I did wrestling.” Dean took Cas’s hand before the other could move away, ignoring his protesting mumbling, and pushed his sleeve up. 

Dean’s breath hitched when he saw Cas’s arm covered in dark purple bruises. In the process of tucking Cas’s shirt up to his elbow the shirt’s collar moved a bit down and revealed some equally repulsive injuries around his collarbone. 

Cas jerked his arm away and adjusted his shirt so that his skin was fully covered again.

“Cas, what the hell happened?” Dean didn’t even try to hide the concern in his voice. 

“I told you it was nothing.” Cas avoided Dean’s eyes and tossed some cash onto the counter. “I really need to go now, I think I’ll have that coffee some other time.” He was out of the shop before Dean could open his mouth to stop him.

Dean spent the next twenty-four hours thinking about the incident. Cas had clearly been lying; under no circumstances does running into a doorframe leave such marks. But what could have caused bruises like that and why would Cas lie about it?

He sighed loudly as he watched a short woman walk out of the café with a whipped cream-mountain on her latte, then glanced at the clock. It was nearly two on a Saturday afternoon, based on his routine in the past months Cas would usually be here by now. 

Just as he finished this thought the door opened again and the country’s beloved best-seller writer walked in. His hair was as messy as always (as Dean found out, Cas had official given up on making it look neater) but he was wearing a dark blue sweater instead of his usual trenchcoat-white shirt combination.

Dean couldn’t help but notice how the colour made Cas’s blue eyes glow. 

He smiled at his friend and was about to ask him if he wanted to go over to his place after his shift had ended to have his bruises checked (Dean did have experience with treating injuries after all) and have a drink and maybe go out for dinner later. But the smile froze on his face as soon as another man stepped inside and threw an arm over Castiel’s shoulder as if it was the most natural thing ever.

The man must have been older than Castiel by several years and he pretty much looked like a black hole; his hair was nearly as dark as Cas’s and he was dressed in all black from the expensive-looking suit to the fancy shoes. The man’s clothes must have cost more than Dean’s apartment and all his furniture. 

But it wasn’t the clothes that made Dean immediately hate the guy. No, it was the fact that Cas did nothing to remove his arm from around his shoulder.

Castiel looked at Dean, said something to the man and the two made their way to the counter.

“Hello, Dean. I would like to introduce you to my agent, Crowley.” Cas didn’t seem to notice Dean’s discomfort. 

The man – Crowley – looked Dean up and down but didn’t show any signs that he’d be up for a handshake.

“Nice to finally meet you, Dean-o. Although it feels like as if I already knew you, Cassie here cannot shut up about you.” Crowley said finally, patting Cas on the shoulder with his hand that was _still_ wrapped around the other man.

“I guess you have an advantage there then, he didn’t say much about you.” _Except that you’re a dick._ However, Dean wasn’t so sure anymore that that was what Cas really thought of Crowley. 

Crowley gapped and dramatically put his free hand on his heart.

“Did you not, darling? I’m hurt!” 

Darling?! Was this guy joking? Or… No, he had to be. Because if he wasn’t that would mean that there was something between him and Cas, and Dean did not want to consider that possibility.

“I did mention a few things about you, but we haven’t discussed my job in-depth.” Cas finally shook Crowley’s hand off his shoulder. “Can we have a black coffee without sugar and one of those hazelnut-caramel mochas, please? With extra syrup and whipped cream on the mocha.” 

Dean just raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment Cas’s words. “Take away?”

“Have here. Cassie and I have a lot to discuss, after all.” Crowley winked at Castiel and Dean felt a sudden urge to throw a mug full of hot coffee at him. “Like the date when you’re finally moving to New York.”

Dean’s hand froze halfway through reaching for a mug.

“What?”

“Crowley, we’ve been through this numerous times, I’m not moving houses. New York is too far away and way too expensive.”

“Not like you couldn’t afford it, but you’re always welcome to move in to my place, you know.”

Cas just sighed and shook his head. 

“I’m not going to leave Lawrence.”

Dean felt a wave of relief wash over him, but it was gone as soon as Crowley dramatically bumped his head on the other’s shoulder. 

“I’m glad to hear that. There you go, a black coffee and a cup of instant diabetes.” Dean said as he handed them the two mugs.

Castiel reached for his wallet, but Crowley put a hand on his (was this guy uncapable of not touching Cas?) and pulled out his own. 

“I’ve got this, honey, I think I still owe you one from that time in San Diego. Oh, what a night that was!” he said with a shit-eating grin and handed a note way bigger than the price of their coffees to Dean. “Keep the change, Derek.”

Dean thought that the worst thing that could happen was Cas and Crowley sitting down at the counter and him having to listen to Crowley’s shameless flirting with the writer.

It turned out, watching the older man grab Cas by the hand and drag him across the café to one of the free tables at the back where Dean couldn’t hear a word of what they were saying was actually worse. 

Was this guy Cas’s boyfriend? He never mentioned anything about being in a relationship; however, he never said that he was single either. And the way Crowley was acting around him, touching him constantly, calling him by pet names; these were pretty good indicators that the two of them were more than friends.

But Cas didn’t reciprocate any of these actions. Maybe it was because he was naturally a reserved person and didn’t like PDA, but even now when they were sitting at the table it was Crowley who leaned in close to the other while Cas leaned back in his chair. 

Also, even on those rare occasions when Cas did mention Crowley he didn’t speak too highly of him. All he said was how the agent was constantly nagging him to move, and how he would threaten to torture him if he missed his deadlines. 

And then it suddenly hit Dean.

Cas and Crowley were in a relationship, but Cas didn’t want it anymore. That would explain his cold behaviour, and maybe Crowley knew about it too, that’s why he was being all handsy, marking his territory as best as he could.

A second thought quickly followed, and Dean had to grab the side of the counter to steady himself.

Because suddenly he remembered that Crowley had arrived just a few days ago and the bruises on Cas’s arm and collarbone that hadn’t been there before. He remembered how when they first met Cas said something along the lines of Crowley losing his temper easily and tending to get violent. 

Dean quickly put two and two together, his hands involuntarily clenched into fists and his face flushed. 

If it was true, if Crowley really was hurting Cas, he’d walk up to them and kill the bastard right here and now. 

But of course he couldn’t be sure about it, and Ellen would murder him if he caused a scene, especially if it turned out that he was wrong. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, although his pulse was still racing. 

He spent the next hour and a half watching over the two men. He knew he was being unfriendly to those few customers who came in and barely got their orders right, but he didn’t care. If he saw Crowley even just looking at Cas angrily he’d make sure that was the last thing the guy did. 

But nothing like that happened. Cas and Crowley just chatted, Crowley smirked a few times, and Cas shook his head now and again. 

Cas must have noticed that Dean was watching them, because after some time he started looking back at the barista more and more often, sending him a small smile whenever their gazes met. But Dean had a hard time returning his smile and Cas looked away seeming more and more sad each time. 

When the two men finally stood up to leave Dean let out a sigh of relief; however, he quickly realised that if they did actually leave he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on Crowley anymore and all his relief was immediately gone. 

“We need to go now, I’m taking Crowley to the airport.” said Cas as they walked up to the counter. 

“Is he leaving already? What a shame.” as always, Cas didn’t notice the sarcasm in Dean’s voice, but Crowley furrowed his brows and looked from one man to the other. 

“Yeah, well, some people have proper jobs to do.” he said finally, giving Dean a pitiful smile.

Dean opened his mouth to send Crowley to hell, but Castiel was quicker. 

“Don’t be rude. Thanks for the coffee, Dean, and have a nice weekend.”

The two dark-haired men turned around to leave but Dean called out to Castiel.

“Cas… are you okay?”

The writer gave him a puzzled look.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Nothing, it’s just… listen, can you come around tomorrow? The Harvelles are on a family trip so I’m working both days of the weekend and there’s something I want to talk to you about.” 

Castiel thought for a second.

“Yes, I should be able to drop by tomorrow evening, if that’s fine with you.”

“Awesome. And Cas, just… take care of yourself, okay?”

“Love, if we don’t hurry up I’m going to miss the flight and the last think I want is spending another day in this dusty hole in the middle of nowhere. Can we go?”

“Yes, I’m coming.” Cas gave one last look at Dean, still trying to figure out the reason for the barista’s sudden concern, but unable to do so he turned around and the two men left. 

Dean spent the rest of the afternoon mentally drafting a speech that he’d give to Cas the next day about how he deserved so much better, and Dean was there for him if he needed him, because he truly cared. 

By the time Castiel entered the café the next evening Dean had a solid ten-minute speech in the hope that it would convince the author to end his abusive relationship.

The place was fortunately empty, most likely because it was already nearing their closing time. 

When Cas stepped in Dean walked to the front door and turned over the sign, which was now showing that the café was closed for that day. The Harvelles will have to excuse him if they lost a customer or two, but nothing was more important than what he was about to do. 

Cas greeted Dean, took the seat he always did be the counter, and ordered his usual black coffee, but his whole behaviour seemed a bit off. He looked somewhat sad, even though he clearly tried to hide it. 

“Everything okay, Cas?” asked Dean, his voice full of concern.

“Yes, it’s just… Crowley said some things yesterday and I can’t stop thinking about it, even though I know it’s nonsense.”

“Cas, listen, that’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.” said Dean when he finished brewing the other’s coffee and put it down before him. He still couldn’t believe how Cas was able to sleep having so much caffeine so late in the evening. 

“I know you and Crowley are… close.” he started after taking a deep breath. “And he’s also your agent, which probably only makes this messier. But you’re in no way inferior to him. You shouldn’t let him treat you the way he does, because you’re a great guy, Cas.”

Castiel blinked a few times, not sure how to respond to Dean’s sudden emotionality. 

“Thank you? But he’s not that bad.” he said finally.

“No, don’t protect him. Look, I have run into doorframes and stuff a few times and I know there’s no way the bruises you had were caused by something like that.”

Castiel’s breath hitched.

“I’ve told you, Dean, I have a tendency to be very clumsy and…”

“Stop it, would you?” Dean interrupted, feeling himself getting angrier by the minute. “Just stop covering for Crowley, please, because there can be no good explanation for hitting you like that.”

Confusion took over the former embarrassment’s place on Castiel’s face. 

“What does Crowley have to do anything with it?” he asked then his brain processed the second half of Dean’s sentence. “Hitting me? What are you talking about?”

“I know you’re in an abusive relationship, Cas, and I… I just wanted to tell you to dump Crowley’s ass because you’re awesome and you deserve so much better than that jerk.”

“Dean…” Castiel was at a loss for words. He remained silent for a couple of seconds, then finally let out a quiet chuckle. 

“Dean” he tried again, now nearly giggling as the barista watched him in utter confusion. “I’m not in a relationship with Crowley.”

“What?” was all Dean could say.

Castiel’s shoulders were shaking with laughter, but he tried to keep a serious face.

“Was that what you were so worked up about yesterday?”

“I… yes, kind of. But wait, are you two not together? But the way Crowley acted yesterday… I mean, he couldn’t keep his hands off you! And what were all those pet names?

Castiel sighed loudly.

“He does that all the time, I find it extremely annoying. I’ve asked him to stop it several times, but it’s like talking to a wall.” he rolled his eyes. “Besides, as far as I know he is in a… rather unconventional relationship with a woman named Naomi.”

“So… Crowley does not abuse you.” 

“No, he doesn’t.” Castiel chuckled again. “He has a big mouth but doesn’t mean half of what he says. And believe me, he wouldn’t have a ghost of chance against me if it came to fighting. It might be hard to believe, but I’m tougher than I look.”

That was definitely hard to believe, seeing Cas’s gentle features and friendly smile. 

“Then how did you get those bruises?”

Castiel’s cheeks turned slightly red. 

“Do you remember that time when we were talking about wrestling? Well, my friend Balthazar used to be a competitive wrestler and after our conversation I asked him to give me a few lessons.” seeing the utter shock on Dean’s face Cas held up his hands in defence and hurriedly continued. “Don’t look at me like that, I know! But you seemed so proud of being in the wrestling team in high school and you spoke about it so passionately that I wanted to see why you were so fond of it. I was going to bring it up once I had mastered the basics, but my very first class turned out to be rather disappointing and painful, as you’ve seen the results, and I was so embarrassed about it that I never mentioned it.”

“You’ve tried wrestling just because I like it.” Dean still couldn’t quite comprehend what Cas was saying. He tried to imagine the other in the rink, growling loudly as he attacked his opponent, but the whole image was so surreal it nearly made him laugh, despite the seriousness of their previous conversation.

“Yes, but I have to say I still don’t understand what you find so astonishing about it.”

Dean was just about to begin a rant about the greatness of wrestling when he remembered what they had been talking about and decided to postpone that speech. 

“Anyway. You’re not dating Crowley.” the picture of Cas and Crowley together was so deeply planted in Dean’s mind that he still had to wrap his head around the information that there was nothing between them. Which meant that maybe Cas…

“I am most definitely not dating Crowley. I can’t believe I thought you did; he always acts like that, but no one has ever come to the conclusion that we are in a relationship as I never go along with his jokes. And apparently I’m an open book when it comes to liking someone so if I did feel something for him that’d be obvious.” the writer stopped abruptly and cast his eyes down as if he said something he didn’t mean to. 

“So, hm, do you? Like someone, I mean.”

Castiel looked back up at Dean with a hurt expression.

“Come on, Dean. I understand that my feelings are unrequited, there’s no need to push this topic further.”

Dean suddenly felt utterly confused.

“Sorry, Cas, but I’m really not following.”

Castiel put his head back, looked up at the ceiling and sighed.

“Look, the way you acted yesterday made it more than clear for me that my feelings for you make you uncomfortable. I almost didn’t come here today, because I was sure you were going to ask me not to come anymore because you don’t like me the way I do, and it’d be better for everyone if we stopped seeing each other. I completely understand if you feel that way, so please just tell me if that’s what you want.”

Dean was speechless, uncapable of speaking or moving, like his brain had been cut off. The only thing he could think of was that this must be a joke, Cas surely didn’t say what he thought he said, because if he did that would mean…

“You like me?”

“I think I made that very obvious in the last six months.” Cas said, then he realised something and furrowed his brows. “But why are you so surprised?”

“Why am I surprised?! How was I supposed to know?”

“Wait, you didn’t know?” Castiel’s eyes widened so comically that Dean must have laughed had he not been undergoing a smaller stroke. “But… I flirted with you so many times, I’ve spent a smaller fortune in this café just so I could be here with you, and Crowley said that I look at you, let me quote, ‘so disgustingly longingly that it makes me want to puke’. Jo knew it since she first saw me interacting with you. She gave me tips and advised me on how to subtly drive the conversation to give you a chance to ask me out. I found it somewhat humiliating, but she was very excited about us.”

“So that’s what all those top-secret talks with Jo were about!” finally it all made sense. “But wait, you flirted with me? And when, if I may ask? Don’t you think I would have noticed if you had been flirting with me?”

Now Castiel seemed a bit embarrassed. 

“I admit that my flirting skills may not be exceptional, but I tried my best. But you never seemed the slightest bit interested.”

“And what gave you that impression?”

“Well, the fact that I tried to make you ask me out several times, but you never did, and you always bringing up your one-night stands made it obvious enough.”

Dean leaned on the counter and facepalmed himself. Then the absurdity of the situation hit him, and he started laughing uncontrollably.

He only stopped when he heard a chair being pushed backwards and looked up to see Cas standing up and reaching for his bag.

“I think it’s best if I go now. This situation is humiliating enough even as it is, there’s no need for you to laugh at me.”

Dean quickly composed himself, reached over the counter and grabbed Cas’s arm. 

“No, wait. Don’t go.” he let go of the other and got around the counter so that they could properly face each other.

“I’m not laughing at you. What kind of an asshole do you think I am?” he looked away and ran a hand through his hair. He’d been meaning to do this for what felt like centuries, there was no way he’d let himself chicken out now.

“I had no idea about your feelings, and dude, I have to tell you that your flirting skills could use some improvement.” he was just trying to make it easier, but Cas gave him an angry look, so he quickly continued. “But anyway, what I want to say is that before this whole Crowley-thing happened I was going to ask you out. I’ve been wanting to do it for a long time, but I didn’t know how you’d feel about it and I didn’t want you to freak out or make our friendship weird or whatever. And then Crowley came along and I though that he was your abusive douchebag of a boyfriend and then all that mattered was to get you to get away from him and…”

“You were going to ask me out?” Cas looked at him as if Dean had just said the most surprising thing ever.

“Yes.” Dean sighed. 

“But why?”

“Why? Because you’re freaking amazing, Cas. You’re smart and funny, even when you don’t want to be, and I can talk to you like to no one else, and you’re basically the only one who never makes me feel like a loser for not achieving anything in my life even though you’re the best author ever, and your books are really awesome, and I just want to be with you.” Dean managed to say all this in a single breath, and he had just now realised that he was about to suffocate.

“Wait, what do you mean I’m funny even when I don’t want to be?”

“Like how adorable you look when you don’t get the sarcasm, or that utter confusion on your face when I make any kind of movie reference. We really need to work on your knowledge of films, by the way.”

“I think I’d like that. Watching movies together, I mean.”

“So… is that a yes? Because if after all this you say that you made up your mind and don’t want to go out with me that’s totally not cool.”

Cas laughed and took Dean’s hand. 

“Would you just kiss me already?”

Dean didn’t need to be told twice.


End file.
